


Witch Hunt

by theclaravoyant



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 11x08 insert, Angst, Gen, Mild Angst, dark!Doctor, slow burn dark doctor, spec fic, spoiler-free
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 03:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: She never had been good at letting children cry.-When a child is put on trial as a witch, a darker side of the Doctor shows through.Inspired by the concept of 11x08 but 100% spoiler free (I haven't seen it at time of writing).





	Witch Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been nagging at me because I have a lot of feelings about the darker side of the Doctor and how the sunshine-lollipops-and-rainbows exterior might start to show a little bit of that wear and tear... so here is a little taste of dark!Doctor and her companions response to that...
> 
> Rated T for mild violence and mature themes.

She never had been good at letting children cry.

Not even at the best of times, and if their day so far was anything to go by, this was definitely not the best of times.

“What was that?” Ryan wondered, frowning. Whatever it was, he seemed to agree it was serious. This was not some toddler throwing a tantrum. This was genuine distress. Terror, even - and it was coming from the river.

Hearts in her throat, the Doctor charged toward the sound. It was just what she had been expecting - what she was far too experienced to disbelieve. The crying child was a little girl, perhaps ten years of age though it was hard to tell from this far. She was strapped to a chair on a lever system, a small crowd looking on, and three men in black pulling the other end of the lever, holding her up - for now.

“I’m not a witch!” the girl was crying. “Please, Father, I’m not a witch! I say my prayers, I’m not a witch! I’mnotawitch _I’mnotawitch -“_

“I’m afraid that remains to be seen, dear girl,” promised the priest standing nearby, his expression grave. “Have faith.”

He gestured for the men to let her weight drop.

The girl shrieked - “ _NO!”_

The Doctor launched herself forward. The muddy bank sucked at her heavy shoes and she paid it no mind. The wind whipped through her hair and her coat. Those in the crowd who were in her way were quick not to be and before she knew it, she had a hand around the pastor’s throat and had lifted him a few inches into the air. Just enough so that he could not run.

“You want a witch?” she snarled. _“You’ve got one.”_

The Doctor glared into the pastor’s eyes. They were wide and white with fear, as if he could feel damnation upon him as his feet scrabbled for purchase in the muddy river bank. She took another step forward, toward the turbid river. Let him hear the souls of the people he had tortured there. Let him fear their retribution as he stared death in the eyes.

Vaguely, in the background, the Doctor was aware of her companions shifting. Balancing the lever, pulling the girl down from the chair. That precious little life, one soul they had saved in all this, but she was so tiny. She didn’t matter, none of them did, when the Doctor was seeing red. Seeing _him._ The one who had started it all, driving a whole town to madness. Driving innocent people to their dooms, by water or by fire, one by one…

But she could stop it. Here. Now. The Doctor knew, she could stop him if she just closed her fingers a little tighter, or gave him a jolt in the wrong place. This was no Venusian Akido. Her arm was burning with the effort of holding him, even though his toes still carried as much weight as she dared let him. Still, the decision danced in her mind, sickeningly inviting, like a fall into a deep chasm or the desire to touch a flame.

“How does it _feel?” s_ he prompted.

The pastor began to mutter incantations under his breath. Latin, the Doctor guessed, but she payed them no attention. Neither would his God, she hoped, and ground her teeth together. He deserved to die as terrified and alone as they all had.

_End it. End him. Now,_ the void-voice whispered. The Doctor’s fingers itched with the temptation. Venomous, virulent hatred filled her lungs. It would be so easy.

( _More importantly,_ encouraged the voice, _it would be what he deserved.)_

But then there was another voice.

“Y’alright there, Doc?”

Graham’s voice. Gentle, knowing. Cajoling her down from her spiral, from the edge of bloody vengeance with the lightest touch.

“I think we’ve got it all under control back here.”

She was never sure how he managed to hit the right notes, but his unassuming suggestion reminded the Doctor that she was supposed to be in charge here - and that this was not how she was supposed to be leading them. Clearing her throat, she dropped the pastor to the ground, and since he knew what was good for him he stayed there, looking around, skittish and bewildered, at this witch’s incredibly unusual friends.

Ryan huddled nearby with the young girl they’d rescued. The two of them sat on the riverbank and the girl seemed to be hiding as much as possible in his arm and shoulder. She watched the Doctor warily. The fear in her eyes made the Doctor feel a little sick. The fact that Ryan seemed about to back her up was worse.

Then there was Yaz, who had herded the audience back to a safe distance and still held her arms out, barricading them from the danger. From the _Doctor._ She was facing away when the Doctor looked at her, but perhaps she could feel the terrifying electricity of danger fade from the air because she glanced over her shoulder and caught the Doctor’s eyes, and there was confusion and fear and guilt and hurt and _this was another reason why she should have just said no._

Even Graham, ever-faithful, looked a little shaken by the bristling display.

“Perhaps we should be getting on, Doctor,” he suggested. “I don’t think the good Father will be bothering anybody else about this, if he knows what’s good for him, aye?”

She spared a glance - more of a glare - for the priest still lying in the mud. Under her fiery gaze, he crossed himself. That was hardly a promise.

“Nobody else is tested here, do you understand?” she instructed. “No more witch hunts. There are some beings in this universe with powers greater than you can understand, but I am one of them and I promise you, _you don’t scare me._ If you come after that little girl again, or any other woman in this town, or if you think you can crush the chests of the men who defend them and call that a confession - I will come for you. And there will be no mercy from me if I have to call again. _Do you understand?”_

More frantic nodding. The priest’s lips stammered and skipped and eventually he settled on -

“Yes. Y- Yes, m’am.” And some more incantations. Perhaps he thought he’d just seen an angel, the Doctor mused. A real one, at least as he would see it - one of the _be not afraid_ persuasion. If he knew what was good for him, that’s the story he would tell. No more witch hunts, a command from on high. The Doctor could live with that… even if it meant feeling the discomfort burning in her companions’ eyes.

She smiled as gently as she could, and knelt by Ryan. She pulled a small golden orb out of her pocket, like an apple, and offered it up to the little girl. To her unmitigated relief, Ryan nudged the girl and promised, _“It’s alright.”_ The girl still didn’t look too sure about it, but took the word of her impromptu guardian and accepted the gift.

“If you ever need my help,” the Doctor promised, “you just think of me and I will hear you. Okay? I’ll come and save you, if I can.”

The girl nodded her understanding, and the Doctor stood. She was not convinced her companions were un-terrified, and she might have a lot of explaining to do, but at least some good had come out of it. And there wasn’t any more blood on her hands… yet.

“Come on, gang,” she invited. “Graham’s right. Let’s get a shift on.”

Knuckling down, she began the walk back to the Tardis. She clamped down on her feelings, her fear, and her immense relief when Ryan, Yaz and Graham began to tail her.

(But she did not miss the one last uncomfortable, ever so slightly fearful glance they shared).


End file.
